Bound by Song (Cauld Ane Series, #4) Page 17

  She bit her lip. “A little. You’re the first man I’ve brought home for a formal introduction since Trey, and he and I started dating in high school, so they had a long time to get to know him...well, get used to him, anyway.”

  Grace heard footsteps on the stairs and turned as Maggie peeked her head into the room. “Hi, Max.”

  “Hi, lass.”

  “Mags, are you well enough to be up?” Grace asked.

  Maggie smiled. “I could be half-dead and still not want to miss this dinner.”

  “There’ll be other dinners, Maggie,” Grace said.

  “There’ll never be another one where Dad grills Max,” she argued.

  “No I suppose there—”

  Before Grace could finish her sentence, Max rushed to Maggie. “Your nose is bleeding, lass,” he said as he pressed a handkerchief against her nose.

  “I’ll get some towels,” Grace said. She ran to the bathroom, trying not to panic as she gathered the linen from under the sink and headed back to the front room.

  * * *

  Max’s heart dropped. As soon as he touched Grace’s sister, he knew she had something much, much worse than the flu. He made eye contact with her. “Maggie, you will make an appointment with Grace’s doctor immediately and you will insist that she take blood tests. Do you understand?”

  Maggie nodded. “I will make an appointment with Grace’s doctor.”

  “You will tell Grace that I convinced you to do so.”

  “I will tell Grace that you convinced me to do so.”

  Max broke eye contact and pulled the handkerchief away from her nose. She was still bleeding quite profusely, so he led her to the sofa so she could sit down.

  “I have towels,” Grace said as she returned, her mother behind her.

  Max took a small flannel. “I want you to press this under your lip, at the very top, okay?”

  Maggie nodded and did as he instructed, while Max took a clean towel and gently placed it under her nose to catch the blood.

  “Magpie, you’re going back to bed,” her mother demanded.

  Maggie shook her head, groaning, unable to speak due to the linen pressed against her mouth.

  “No arguments. Come on.” Grace’s mother took her daughter’s arm gently. “You two go on into the kitchen.”

  Max nodded and waited for Maggie and Mrs. Wilson to leave the room. Grace’s expression was one of worry, but he couldn’t tell her anything, at least not yet. They had to be alone. For the moment, he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “Come on, love. Maggie’ll be fine. She promised to go to your doctor as soon as possible.”

  “She did?”

  “Aye. She’s going to call in the morning.”

  Grace let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this over with. I want you all to myself for a little while.”

  “Oh, are we spending time together alone, love?”

  “Cheeky man. You’ve had me tied up in knots for days about this birthday surprise, so, you bet your butt we’re spending time alone.”

  Max laughed and followed her into the dining room.

  * * *

  Max hadn’t quite expected the man who was Grace’s father. Garrett Wilson was tall and muscular, in his mid-forties, with a quick mind and keen insight. Not at all the computer ‘geek’ Max believed he would resemble.

  “When did you decide music was going to be your full-time career?” Garrett asked the brothers.

  Niall chuckled and raised an eyebrow at Max. “That’s a loaded question,” he said.

  “I made that decision for the both of us, I have to admit,” Max said. “And as much as I would love to force Nye to do this full time with me, he has other interests.”

  “As do you,” Niall countered.

  “Like what?” Spencer asked.

  “Spence,” Grace said with a groan. “Nosy much?”

  Max smiled, squeezing her hand under the table. “I don’t mind. Ask anything you like.”

  “Well, when you’re not touring, what do you do?” Spencer reworded the same question.

  “He’s a skilled artist,” Niall said.

  “You are?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t know about skilled,” Max replied. “But I do like to draw and paint. And I work with horses in my down time, which is more and more of late.”

  “Grace loves horses,” Lila said.

  Max smiled at Grace. “Yes, she told me.”

  Grace nodded. “We went riding together in Alaska. It was amazing.”

  He ran his thumb across her knuckles, their hands still clasped under the table. “Aye, it was.”

  Max smiled at Grace and it took a great deal of willpower not to drag her from the table for a few minutes alone.

  “Do I need to get the fire extinguisher?” Spencer asked. “You two are on fire.”

  “Spencer,” Garrett warned.

  Grace blushed.

  “Anyway,” Niall said, breaking the awkwardness, “in answer to the original question, music isn’t actually our full-time gig, so to speak. We both run companies outside of the band. I’m in real estate and Max breeds horses.”

  “I understand you’re both on the board of quite a large charity,” Garrett continued.

  “You are?” Grace asked, and then frowned at her father. “I’m pretty sure there are laws against invasion of privacy, Dad.”

  Max chuckled. “As I told Lila, I have nothing to hide, so feel free to investigate, or ask anything. And yes, Niall and I are on the board of Rogue, which houses several charities supporting women and children at risk, victims’ rights, that sort of thing. Actually, quite boring in the day-to-day details, which is why we’ve hired a very capable group of people to take care of those interests.”

  Max didn’t go into detail about how much he and Niall actually did within the organization. It seemed unnecessary to tout the number of grueling hours spent working with women who’d been victimized, or providing the best doctors, who offered counseling to children who would otherwise grow up believing it was either acceptable to abuse, or to be abused.

  They’d started the organization several years after Moira’s death, and had provided refuge for many women, human and Cauld Ane alike, who’d been at the wrong end of an angry man.

  “Well, I think it sounds like a wonderful organization,” Lila said. “I think it’s so important to give back to the community.”

  Max nodded. “As do we.”

  “Where do you record your albums?” Spencer asked.

  Max relaxed. Back to the topic of music. A subject that cost him nothing emotionally. “I have a small studio in my home, as does Niall. We also occasionally record at Connall’s home when we’re all together, and if we’re not, we’ll file swap. With the invention of ProTools and the like, it’s easy to collaborate from different parts of the country, or world, if needed.”

  “That is so cool,” Spencer said.

  The rest of the dinner conversation revolved around music. Max found Grace’s family open and friendly, something he’d sadly missed after the death of his sister. His family had never been able to rally back to the close-knit clan they’d once been.

  Grace left the table with her mother to serve dessert. Spencer offered to help, as did Niall, leaving Max at the table with Garrett, who’d requested he stay. Garrett sat back and smiled. “I see you’ve had quite an effect on my daughter.”

  Max nodded. “As she has had on me.”

  “And what are your intentions?”

  “I would very much like to marry her.”

  Garrett raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look at all surprised. “Is she aware of this?”

  “She is.”

  “And what does she say?”

  “No offense, sir, but I’d rather not share our private conversations without asking her first. If Grace would like to fill you in, or says it’s all right for me to do so, then I’ll be happy to.”

  Garrett chuckled, taking Max by surprise. “I w
asn’t expecting that response.”

  Max leaned forward. “Cards on the table?”

  “Please.”

  “There is nothing more important to me than your daughter, so my motivation will always be about doing what’s best for her. I would never betray her trust, even in something that might seem insignificant, like a conversation about her opinion on our relationship.” Max smiled. “You and I have the same goal...to protect and cherish Grace. Whatever she wants to share with you and Mrs. Wilson is absolutely fine with me, but until I know how she feels, I will remain discreet.”

  “Everything okay in here?” Grace asked, setting cheesecake in the middle of the table. She squeezed her father’s shoulder. “Dad?”

  He patted her hand and smiled up at her. “Everything’s fine, honey. I’ll just go help your mom with the coffee.”

  He stood and left the room as Grace took her seat. “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “One second.” Max checked to make sure no one was watching and leaned forward to kiss her. “I have wanted to do that for the past hour.”

  “Ditto.” Grace smiled and stroked his cheek. “Now, stop trying to distract me with kisses. How hard was my dad being on you?”

  “Not hard at all. He and I are on the same page, I think.”

  Grace sighed, laying her hands in her lap. “I don’t know if that makes me feel any better.”

  Max linked his fingers with hers. “Well, it does me, so you don’t count.”

  “Nice.” Grace giggled. “Glad to see where I rate.”

  “I like your family, sweetheart. You’re very lucky.”

  She nodded. “I am, I agree. On many levels.”

  He kissed her once more before the rest of the group returned with coffee. And as soon as he was able, he stole Grace away for the conversation he was both dreading and looking forward to.

  GRACE SAT DOWN on one of the sofas in Max’s hotel suite. Her heart raced with anticipation as he handed her a glass of wine and sat facing her. He looked petrified, and that made Grace a little more nervous than she would have liked. “Okay, so what’s the big secret?” she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “First, did anything strange happen last night?”

  “What do you mean? You were with me.”

  Max shook his head. “No. After you went to sleep.”

  She shifted in her seat, not sure how much to share.

  “Tell me, love. It’s okay.”

  “Well, I had some really vivid dreams.” She cleared her throat and shook her head as flashes of the sexier parts came to her mind.

  Max took her wine glass from her and set it next to his so he could grasp both her hands. “You and I in my bedroom...me between your legs?”

  “Ohmigod, yes.”

  “Then a goddamn car alarm going off?”

  She gasped and pulled her hands from his. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Because I gave you those visions...well, not the car alarm, that was someone in the parking lot, but the others I gave you...including the follow-up of riding in a meadow and then making love by the water?”

  “What?” Grace let out a nervous giggle. “What do you mean?”

  “In the dream, do you remember sitting by the water and looking down at your hand?”

  She nodded.

  “Was there something on your finger?”

  “Yes. A really expensive-looking ring. It had really cool filigree or something on it.”

  “This one?” he asked as he pulled out a velvet box and opened the lid. Nestled in the deep blue velvet sat an intricate ring of woven white and yellow gold with a diamond the size of Grace’s head. It was the ring she’d dreamed of the night before in vivid detail. She let out a squeak and rose to her feet.

  “Six carats is not quite as big as your head, love.”

  She jabbed a finger toward him. “How did you know what I was thinking? And how did you know about the ring?”

  “Because I can read your mind and I can speak into your mind...and I gave you the dream.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I can speak into your mind.

  “You cannot.”

  I am right now.

  “How are you doing that? Why aren’t your lips moving?” she asked.

  He smiled. Because I can speak to you telepathically.

  “No, you can’t.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I can.”

  She shook her head and stepped away from him when he stood. “This is impossible.”

  “Don’t freak out on me, love,” he begged. “Take it a moment at a time, okay? You can ask me anything you like.”

  “What am I thinking right now?”

  He smiled. “Nothing.”

  “Give me a second,” she groaned.

  Unicorn farts.

  He chuckled. “Unicorn farts?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  “Right. Because unicorn farts is so normal to think of.”

  She frowned. “None of this falls under the category of normal, Max.”

  “Sorry, baby.”

  She turned away from him. Four score and seven years ago...um...inalienable rights? Dang it, I should have paid more attention in history class.

  “Four score and seven years ago,” he repeated. “Yes, you should have paid more attention. Even I know the rest of the Gettysburg Address, and inalienable rights wasn’t in that speech.”

  Grace gasped and faced him again. “How are you doing that?”

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” Max said. “But will you come and sit down so I can at least try to explain?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”

  “Give me some time, love. All will be revealed.”

  “You’re scaring me,” she admitted, finally looking at him again.

  He closed the distance between them and took her hands. “I know, baby, but just stick with me and we’ll sort it out.”

  She calmed at his touch and felt like her heart was beating differently. What she couldn’t understand was why.

  “Your heartbeat is slowing to match mine,” he explained.

  “What?”

  “Your body is so in tune with mine that your heartbeat is slowing to match mine. It’s how it works.”

  She groaned in frustration. “How what works?”

  He pulled her onto the sofa, making sure they stayed connected. “I am from an ancient people. One that has clans scattered over a few select parts of the world, but our origins are Icelandic, with one or two of the older clans from Scotland.”

  “Okay,” she said, slowly. “I don’t know what any of that means. What are you, exactly?”

  “We are Cauld Ane, which loosely translates to ‘cold one.’ We are of Viking heritage and we live much, much longer than humans and can do things humans can’t.”

  “I feel like you’re reading from a script.”

  “Sorry,” Max said. “Pepper thought it would help if I gave you some back story.”

  “Who’s Pepper?”

  “She’s Connall’s ma—ah, wife. Con’s my closest friend. Pepper’s American and used to be human.”

  “Used to—what?”

  Max grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”

  “What do you mean, ‘used to be human’?” Grace tried to pull her hands away. “Are you saying you’re not human?”

  “Don’t pull away, love. I need you to know I’m telling you the truth.”

  Grace stared at him. She knew he wasn’t lying. She could feel it in her bones, even though she didn’t know how that was possible.

  “It’s because we’re connected.”

  “Stop doing that!” she snapped.

  “Sorry.” He smiled. “Does it help to know you can read my mind?”

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose. “Mostly because I don’t think I want to read your mind.”

  Max chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  “Are you...um...trying to tell me that you’re like a vampire
or a witch or something like that?”

  He shook his head. “Not even close. We are of a different race, just not human.”

  “Can you read everyone’s minds? Talk to everyone...telepathically?”

  “No. Just our mates.”

  “Mates?”

  “You’re my mate, Grace. The one and only person created just for me.”

  She tried to pull away again, but he held fast. “Please, Max. I need to think.”

  He let her go, but she could tell he wasn’t happy about it.

  Grace crossed her arms, rubbing them for warmth. “How am...ah...how was I created just for you?”

  “That’s something I can’t explain. When we turn twenty-five, we have reached our ár mökunar, ah, mating year, and our mate is known to us...well, they are if we are on the same continent. I can only assume the universe chooses them for us.”

  “Or God,” she countered.

  Max smiled. “Yes, sweetheart, perhaps it is God.”

  “So, how long have you known that I was your mate?”

  “From the moment I saw you.”

  “But you didn’t know I was your mate until then? You didn’t meet someone else you thought might be your mate before now?”

  He shook his head. “Until they invented airplanes, I didn’t travel outside of Scotland, so I always wondered who you’d be. I’ve waited a very long time for you.”

  “So, you knew I was your mate in Scotland—wait, what? What does the invention of airplanes have to do with anything?” she asked.

  “I don’t sail well, so until then, I didn’t get out much.”

  “But planes were invented in the early nineteen-hundreds. Are you trying to tell me you were around when the airplane was invented?”

  “Well—”

  “You can’t be much older than me, right?” she interrupted. “Maybe thirty?” She asked the question, but knew in her gut she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “I’m older than thirty.”

  “Thirty-five?”

  “No, Grace, I’m not thirty-five.”

  “But you said you didn’t form the band in the eighties,” she continued.

  “Baby, I see you trying to spin this in your mind, and I want to give you time to process, I really do, but you need to know the truth. All of it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know if I want to know the truth.”